Hanging by a Thread
by Secret Spy Guy
Summary: At the end of "Jumper", David left Griffin trapped in a mess of electric cables, at the mercy of the next person to find him. When that person comes, will the jumper finally meet death...or will something worse await?
1. End of the Line

**Spy Guy: **

**There's finally a Jumper Section. Someone, who I'm not sure if they want mention, but they PM'd me about it, and I'm very grateful, and happy that there's an entire section just for Jumper. :D The fandom can only grow! I cleaned this up a bit, and hope to add another chapter soon!  
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**_Author's note from original Posting_:  
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**So for those of you who have me on watch, or those who simply stalk me in the dark of night (I love all of you!), you'll know how I've been trying to find a new fandom to write for. so right now, this is an experimental project. **

**(At this time I know some of you stalkers are strangling your Secret Spy Guy voodoo dolls, demanding that I update Masters' weapon. I'm working on it. lolz. :))**

**Then there are those of you who are rabid Jumper (and or Jamie Bell fans) who have been crossing your fingers for some good Griffin agnst...well...here you go. **

**I came up with idea trying to figure out how the directors of the film are going to tie it into the sequel written by Steven Gould (who wrote the novel that Jumper was based on). The sequal, for those not in the know, is called Reflex, and it involves David getting kidnapped by a covert organization. **

**Well...then I started thinking, "How is Griffin going to get down before he gets keeled?"**

**Boom...there is the tie-in.**

**For now, this is just a one-shot. Maybe it i have time, and people like it, I'll write more, but for now...here you go. Enjoy. **

**disclaimer: I do not own Jumper, or any affiliated characters. **

**(oh, and the language is stronger than anything I've written as of yet. Griffin swears. Had to keep him in character. Sorry if anyone is offended. No fudge buckets here.)**

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He groaned as another jolt of power ran through his body, causing him to twitch with uncontrollable spasms. The man's fingers clutched at the charged cables that trapped him, as he struggled in vain to free himself from their imprisoning clutches.

"Damn you, David." Griffin hissed, another pulse of electricity rattling his brain. His body made an agonizing attempt to jump, his honed instincts working cruelly against him. The man was entirely at the mercy of the first person to come upon him…a situation that made him exceedingly uncomfortable. Years of running…years of heartbreak and having everything cruelly torn from him, had made him distrustful of the human race. He was fearful of anyone…even the most innocent could be dangerous. Even those closest could be enemies. Experience had hardened his heart…

So when he saw three figures approaching, he instantly tried to jump again…

A bad idea, he knew. Not only was he entangled in live electrical wires, but his form also flickered right before their eyes…neither of those sights were common--or possible-- in the eyes of a regular human. The fact that the leader of the group, a thin, tan-skinned brunette, had a sly smile on her face, made his blood run cold in his veins.

He instantly knew what she was…

She must be a paladin…

"Hey you!" The woman called, her smile growing. "What's up?"

"Shut up, you bloody bitch." Griffin snarled, "I really don't want to deal with this shit right now."

"Feisty little jumper, aren't you?" The woman sneered, reaching into a pouch at her side. "Why don't you calm down little boy, and let me help you."

Griffin snarled again, flailing wildly against the cables holding him back. He could almost imagine the woman pulling out a gun, like the one that had killed his parents, or drawing out a machete like the one that Roland favored. The jumper hated how helpless he was, hanging useless just like all of the other jumpers that had fallen before him. For years, he had been Griffin, _the_ jumper, the one who was impossible to kill. He had managed to murder countless Paladins, despite the disadvantages he faced. He refused to allow this woman to kill him…without any effort at all.

"Come to kick a jumper while he's down?" Griffin taunted, his face screwed up in pain and anger. The woman simply laughed.

"I'm not here to kill you, if that's what you think, Darling." She grinned, drawing a long syringe from her pocket. Her finger pushed slightly on the plunger, expelling the air from the clear plastic casing. Droplets of honey colored liquid dribbled from the needle's sharp point, running sluggishly along its metal surface.

Griffin's eyes widened with fear.

"You must think we're Paladins, right, little boy?" The woman asked, her tone mocking as she approached, holding the syringe confidently in one hand. Griffin kicked out at her head, but missed, only to have the intruder's free hand seize his ankle in a surprisingly strong grip.

"I can assure you, we're nothing like those religious nutjobs." She continued, the two thugs flanking her on either side immobilizing the rest of the jumper's limbs, careful not to touch the live wires. "My employer is more interested in your skills…your talents, Griffin. You must be smart, if you've dodged the Paladins for so long. We could use that."

"How do you know about me you witch?" The boy demanded, flailing desperately. The woman's face twisted into a sinister grin as she lifted up his pant leg, exposing the pale flesh of his calf.

"We've been trailing you for a long time, Griffin." She replied, twisting the man's ankle around to further immobilize his leg. She brought the needle's tip to rest against his skin, swiftly slipping it into a pulsing vein. Griffin panicked, bucking against the wires, his body flickering in and out of place, one part of him pulling to return to the desert, the other too muddled to go…

He felt his body growing limp, slipping through the cables only after he could no longer fight. The thugs held tightly onto his deadened body, carefully maneuvering him through the live wires, preventing him from choking. The jumper still continued to twitch even after the cables were gone, his mind muddled by the effects of the powerful volts, and the drug that oozed through his blood, leaving him at the mercy of his captors…

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**Spy Guy: Thank you so much for reading. I really appriciate it, and please review! :D I want to know what you think. **


	2. Job Hunting

**Spy Guy: Here's part two. I know this took a long time, for the people who read this in the Misc. Movies area. But now, it's in the Jumper section, so I had to move it anyway, so I decided to update. Maybe I'll continue. :D You guys need to let me know, okay? :D Review! Constructive criticism is greatly appreciated. **

**Thank you so much for reaching, and enjoy. :D **

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Griffin could remember the feeling of he warm desert air on his skin...the comfort of his secret place, hidden from everyone. He could see himself, sitting beside his father, leaning against the man's arm, and gazing out at the rolling sands. _

"_The fastest one always wins, Griffin." His dad said, smiling slightly. He had always been so wise, as if all the knowledge in the world rested in his head. Griffin looked up to him more than anyone else in the world. _

"_You'll always be one step ahead of everyone else." _

"_Then why can't I do this at home?" The small boy asked, sadness creeping into his voice. He wanted nothing more than to show his friends...to show his teachers, and all the bullies who tormented him, just what he could do. But his parent's rule stayed firm. He wasn't to use his powers at all without permission. _

_Their word was final. _

"_Is a secret weapon very useful if everyone knows about it?" His father inquired. _

_Little Griffin shook his head. _

"_Then that's why you need to hide your jumping. It's a secret weapon, only for emergencies." _

_A secret weapon...

* * *

  
_

Griffin sluggishly opened his eyes, his entire body on fire, as if he had been dragged along hot coals. He felt a slab of metal beneath his back, cold and hard on his battered muscles. His limbs were heavy and sluggish, and his tongue was dry in his mouth.

It didn't take Griffin long to realize that he wasn't in Iraq anymore.

His instincts kicked in almost immediately, and he jumped, picturing his site on the Maine coastline, hidden amongst an outcropping of jagged rocks. It was the perfect spot to watch the waves lap against the shore, and he often did so in the summertime, when the weather was somewhat warm. As reality changed around him, he could feel the cool breeze on his face, and smell the familiar tang of salt. It seemed so fresh, compared to the harsh antiseptic stench of wherever he was.

But then he felt a tug on his wrist.

It was gentle for a moment, but then the pain intensified, as if his arm was being forcibly yanked out its socket. The jumper screamed, quickly retreating from his sanctuary, skittering across the floor until he felt a cold wall of reinforced steel behind him.

Griffin gritted his teeth, panting heavily as he tried to catch his breath. His arm hurt like hell, but he could still move it, meaning that it wasn't dislocated, which was a good thing. The last thing he wanted was to be in agonizing pain until someone came to help him. He wasn't going to let a simple matter of being chained to a wall make him look weak. He was _Griffin_, the jumper that ran circles around the Paladins...

But still...he was chained to a wall...

The man didn't even have to look at his wrist to know. Now that clarity was returning to him, he could feel the rough metal against his skin. Of course that bitch would know the only way to imprison a jumper. She _obviously_ knew something about his kind. She would know that jumpers couldn't move buildings, and that, if you attach a jumper to something much bigger than it, you had it trapped.

Griffin was definitely trapped.

And to him...it was worse than death...

* * *

David Rice walked slowly along the sidewalk, holding a briefcase at his side, sporting his favorite black coat. The air in the city was chilly in the late autumn, and he wasn't sure how long he would be outside...his life had been unpredictable for a while now...

David Rice was job-hunting...which was something that he hadn't had to do in years...and something that he was only doing again because Millie disapproved of his "stealing".

The young man missed his years of living the high life in his cushy penthouse, eating great food, and going great places. It was the Paladins that had changed all that...making his gift more of a curse...

Living without his jumping was hard, but David knew that he would have to learn. Regular people walked, and took cabs, or drove cars every day of their lives. Surely he could, right?

In theory...

David didn't have a license, so he couldn't drive by himself. Cabs were an option, but the money reserves were running low, and he had to be careful what he spent until he had a job. Another option was a bike, but he had trouble cradling his briefcase as he struggled to stay balanced. For someone who could be anywhere at once, David was having a hard time pretending to be normal...he hadn't been in so long.

His feet were sore, and his dress shoes painfully uncomfortable. The jumper was trying to get a job at a place that was somewhat respectable. Working at a restaurant wasn't for him...neither was working at a bar...like Millie. He really wanted a job full of action...but most of those were either unavailable at the moment, or required a college education.

He kind of fancied an office job. Just something simple to tide him over while he checked out the local community colleges...the cheap ones that he could get into with his uncanny smarts. He had always been a nerd in school...so...maybe he could get a scholarship or something.

Not that he had ever graduated.

David walked past a small diner, and, in a fit of spontaneity, walked inside. His body was chilled to the bone and his throat was begging for a small cup of Joe to warm it. Digging around in his pocket, the young man soon found enough change, and approached the bar, talking a seat in one of the tacky swivel chairs.

A woman behind the counter, with a tan complexion and dark hair pulled into a messy bun, approached him, leaning on the counter, smiling slyly.

"What do you want, Buddy?" She asked, drumming her fingers rhythmically on the countertop. David placed his change on the linoleum surface, and asked for a small cup of coffee, black, decaf. The woman took the money and proceeded to fill his order, stuffing his payment into the pouch of her apron.

David absentmindedly looked around the room, dropping his briefcase to the floor with a dejected sigh. He hated job hunting. The last thing he had ever wanted in his life was to be tied down like a regular human. He was different, and before the Paladins had come around, he had been happy. He could go anywhere he wanted...run from anything that pursued him. He didn't have to work a boring day job to survive. All he had to do was nick a few old bills from a bank. It wasn't hard...and it wasn't as if the money would be missed.

The woman placed his drink on the counter, and the jumper thanked her, taking a distracted sip, his mind still thinking about his future job. He had an interview in an hour, three blocks away. His feet hurt...and the weather outside was nippy. David knew that if he jumped, he could be there in the blink of an eye...

But he had promised Millie.

The coffee was warm in his chilled body, and he found himself greedily drinking it, reveling in the feeling of it sliding down his throat. Why did it taste so good? It was only cheap diner coffee, and nothing else. It was supposed to taste like warm dishwater...but it was so good. He quickly finished the cup, realizing only then that his hand was shaking.

"Whut?" He slurred, his words coming out all wrong. His mouth suddenly felt like rubber, and the cup fell from his grip, hitting the countertop with a thud.

Something was wrong...

He tried to picture his place at the ER...his emergency place, but it was all fuzzy. He couldn't jump to a fuzzy place...It didn't work.

He would have to run...like a normal human.

David clumsily got to his feet, reeling like a drunk as he tried to find his balance. The room was spinning all around him, the colors running into each other. Everything suddenly lurched around him, and he found himself staring up at the ceiling, his breathing coming in short panicked gasps.

His eyelids flickered...and didn't open again...

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**Spy Guy: Thanks guys for reading. Now, just press that little button down there, and send a nice review my way. :D I would love to hear what you think! **


	3. Trapped

**Spy Guy: Sorry about the horribly long wait. I've kind of been falling into a writing funk lately, but, I think I've made my way out of it, at least for a little while. This chapter took only a day to write, and it flowed from my fingers like ink from a pen. I hope it turned out alright. I tried to have equal parts Davy and Griffin...but at the last moment, I decided to cut Griffin's second part from the final chapter, to add to the suspense, and also to have an opportunity to have the scene told from his point of view and not Simons'. **

**Many of the other characters used in this chapter are straight from "Reflex" itself. I simply modified them to fit into the story, kind of like how the scriptwriters for the movie changed Millie and Davy's mom. **

**I'm trying not to make this story too much like the book though. Am I succeeding?**

**Please enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Jumper and any affiliated characters. **

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_"I want to jump…why can't I…why can't I jump?" _

David tried imagining all of his safe places…his base in the desert, the library…somewhere where none of these people would find him. But, they were all blurry…impossible to see. They seemed to melt into one another, creating a perfect place that simply didn't exist. He couldn't go there. He couldn't get away.

_"Millie told me not to jump…but…I gotta…I gotta."_

Sluggishly, the man opened his eyes, cringing as a harsh white light burned his retinas He immediately shut them again, letting out a low moan. There were voices, echoing all around him. Then there were hands, maneuvering him, manipulating his limp body to do what they wished. David tried to exert some control, only to have the hands grip him tighter, hurting him, leaving bruises.

_"Millie…I have to." _

"He's going to jump! Get him strapped down now!"

He didn't know where he was going…but he wasn't going to stay here. He just had to think of someplace…any place. His mind wandered to all the locations he one had in his photographs. Slowly, they were becoming clear. London…a large city where no one could find him…He could see London…the park…

"Hurry up! We can't lose him!"

The hands were holding him tighter, as if they could stop him. London was becoming clearer…clearer.

He jumped—

But there was something holding him back. Something around his wrists…his ankles. Something was tearing him apart. Ripping his limbs from his body. No…he couldn't jump. It would kill him. It would…

_"Millie…I'm sorry."_

_

* * *

_

Griffin hated being trapped.

He couldn't even pace his cell, fettered to the wall like he was. He was like a dog chained up in the yard and forgotten by his family.

His shoulder hurt like a bitch, sore from his failed attempt at a jump. The man knew that it could have been much worse…he could have lost his whole arm.

_"But then…at least I would be free."_

Griffin scoffed, laying down on the hard metal floor beneath him. Sleeping was almost impossible. There were no blankets, no mattresses, no pillows. His chain rattled loudly whenever he moved, and it was impossible to find purchase on the slippery ground. When he _did_ eventually get to sleep, he woke up even sorer than before.

No one had been to see him, except for a blank-faced orderly who would sometimes drop off trays of inedible gruel and cups of lukewarm water. Griffin only ate because he knew that he had to keep up his strength. A weak jumper was a dead jumper…and dead was the last thing Griffin wanted to be.

It was all that newby's fault.

How David had managed to escape detection for all those years was a mystery…but he sure was a lucky son of a bitch. There was no room for _love _in a jumper's world. Whatever a jumper had, the Paladins would destroy…Griffin had learned that lesson the hard way. It was because of David Rice's bleeding heart that he had lost his freedom…and his chance to waste Roland. He had lost everything because of that idiot. Everything that he had worked so hard for…everything that his long-lost friends and family had sacrificed …it was all a waste. If he was ever to defeat the Paladins…he would have to start over from scratch.

And that meant first getting out of his cell.

* * *

Jumpers were rare. That was what made them such a commodity. It didn't help that those foolish Paladins were eradicating their kind like vermin. There were so many things that a jumper could do. They were invaluable.

Take Abney for instance. The lad had been working for pennies a day as a delivery boy in Belize. It was dangerous, stressful work, and it had been only by chance that Lawrence Simons had happened to see him "jump" to get out of the way of a speeding taxi. He surely wasn't the first "jumper" that the man had encountered—they were quite common in his line of work—but was the first that he had ever "recruited" for his cause.

And since that day, Abney had been by his side, helping him to continue his research, his training, his business. He had gained more wealth than he ever could have imagined.

All because of the jumpers.

Lawrence Simons poured over the paperwork on his desk, reading the details of each transaction carefully. He always made sure that his jumpers went to good "homes", where their skills would be put to use. In a strange way, they were like his children…children he trained to be tirelessly obedient. Children he sold off to the highest bidder. He alone understood the magic of their gift and the usefulness of their abilities. They needed to be taught how to protect themselves from the Paladins, and needed opportunities to exercise their powers before they fell into madness. Lawrence Simons saw himself as their savior…and no one would dare say any different.

"Ivan's going out?" The man asked, turning to Abney, who had just arrived by the desk carrying a tea-tray. In his years of being a delivery boy, Abney had become a master at graceful jumps, and was able to hop from one location to another without even ruffling his expensive uniform.

The young man nodded, setting the tray aside.

"The trainers decided it this morning, sir." He replied, getting to work preparing his master's tea. "They say that he's finally ready."

"Going to be a bodyguard. A perfect job for him."

Simons took his tea, thanking the jumper before blowing away the steam.

"Any word on the new recruit?"

"Subject Rice attempted a jump upon awakening, sir, but was not harmed."

"Good, good." The man smiled, slowly nodding his head in approval. "He has good instincts."

"Subject Rice was also cleared for the surgery shortly after arrival."

"More good news. I'm liking this day, Abney."

"I thought you would, sir."

Simons took a few more sips of his drink before getting to his feet. He slipped on his suit jacket, brushed imaginary dust from his front and cleared his throat.

"I believe Griffin's been left to stew long enough. I think today I'd like to meet him."

"That really isn't really your duty, sir." The servant replied. "Leave that up to—"

"I have yet to see this Paladin-killer." Simons said, his eyes narrowing. "I would like to meet such a legend in person, after all this time. If you would kindly take me there…"

After a few moments, Abney reluctantly nodded, taking a few steps forward. He gripped the man's sleeve and closed his eyes, letting the world distort around him. In mere seconds, he delicately emerged from the jump scar, pulling his master behind him and into the hall in front of Griffin's cell

At the sight of their boss, the men guarding the door rushed to unlock it, cautiously letting the man and his servant inside. When they attempted to follow, Simons waved them away, insisting that he would safe. Of course he would. With Abney by his side, he could leave the cell within a moment's notice. With a whoosh, the door shut behind him, and the man found himself looking into the tired, bloodshot blue eyes of the powerful jumper they had caught in Iraq.

…and he smiled.

* * *

There was something in his throat…something that shouldn't be there. It wasn't the tube that was breathing for him…it was something else.

David couldn't open his eyes. He could barely hold onto consciousness. He knew that he was supposed to be asleep…that he wasn't supposed to be feeling anything that was happening. But, he _could _feel it. He could feel each stabbing pain as that _something_ was sewn into his body.

What was happening? He had tried hard to be normal for the woman he loved. He hadn't jumped…hadn't done anything other than what normal humans did.

Why were these people doing this to him?

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**Spy Guy: I hoped you liked it. Please leave a comment to let me know what you think. I hope some of you old readers are still sticking with it, and that you new readers like what you see. Let me know. :D **


	4. Encounters with Jumpers

**Spy Guy: Here you guys go. :D I've had the beginning part written for some time now, and finally got through the part that was giving me trouble. Remember, this story is a re-imagining of the "Jumper" sequel "Reflex" intended to fit in with the movie's timeline. Some of the min points are taken from that novel, and characters like the doctor, Mr. Simons, and Abney are simply reworkings of characters included in the original novel. **

**There...Now my conscience feels better. :D **

**Enjoy. **

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_"Can you hear me? Can you hear me , Mr. Rice?" _

Yes. Yes he could. But he couldn't respond. His body hurt too much. Each breath rattled through his chest, sending nerve-endings on fire. He felt too hot, like he was covered in too many blankets.

_"Mr Rice?"_

"…Hurts…" The man managed to ground out, his mouth dry and parched.

"We'll give you some pain medication for that Mr. Rice, okay? Can you open your eyes?"

The man gasped for air, trying to breathe through the numbness he could feel in his body. Through his lids, he could tell that the world was too bright. He didn't want to look. He just wanted to float away, and let sleep overcome him.

A damp cloth wiped at his forehead, cooling him. There was a sound of sloshing water, followed by more cooling touches. Davy had to admit that they felt good. His body was so feverish…so warm.

_"Open your eyes, Mr. Rice." _

The man tried, forcing his sleep-sealed lids to rise. The room _was_ bright, too bright for him to handle. It burned, and he shied away from it, falling back into darkness.

_"That's it. Try again." _

He didn't know who the man was who was coaxing him, but his voice was soft and unthreatening. Someone continued to wipe down his skin, moving on to his torso, refreshing his sweat-soaked body. Davy made another attempt to see the world, this time managing to hold on.

"There you go." The voice continued. "Keep them open for a bit, and you'll get some ice to suck on. That should make you feel better."

The voice belonged to a man, dressed in the stark white coat of a doctor. He had graying hair, and a hollow face, but his eyes were bright.

"It's good to see you awake, young man." The doctor said. "My name is Dr. Conley. Are you able to breathe alright?"

He nodded slightly. Breathing was becoming easier the longer he was awake…but the pain refused to leave. Conley disappeared for a moment, his voice rumbling low as he whispered to a nurse. When he returned, he was holding a small cup filled with tiny fragments of ice. They reflected in the bright light…and Davy wanted no more than to drink them all down.

"You're going to have to sit up for this." The doctor continued. "Do you think you're up for that? You don't have to do a thing. It's all mechanical."

Once again, Davy nodded.

"Can you hold this?"

The young man took the cup from his caretaker, gripping it in his shaking hand. For the first time, he looked at his skin, pale in comparison to the healthy tan it usually sported. There were wires hooked up to his body, soft pads fastened to his flesh.

And there was always the pain, radiating from his collarbone, making every waking moment agonizing. Slowly, Davy touched the area with ginger fingertips, feeling a shock run through his arm as he came in contact with surgical stitches and inflamed skin…

He dropped the cup.

"W-ww-what…"

Davy couldn't find his voice again. All he knew was that someone had drugged him, and kidnapped him, and cut him open like a fish. He was lying, prone on a table, in front of strangers. He had to get away. He had to—

"Davy! Don't jump! Don't—"

It was instinctive. He pictured his safe place; the library, his sanctuary from all the bad in the world. Everything pulled around him, only to snap back into place as he felt his ankle crack. The pain brought him back to the nurses and doctors and the bright lights. It washed over him, blinding him. All he could do was scream until something cold filled his veins…and nothing mattered anymore.

* * *

They were the first new faces Griffin had seen in days. Two men, one wrinkled and old, the other a coward hiding behind his elder, wearing a fancy uniform. The former was smiling, looking like he had just won the lottery. The latter simply kept his eyes on the floor, his blonde, curly hair hanging into his eyes.

Griffin was instantly on edge, all too aware of the chain keeping him grounded.

"I always imagined you looking much different." The old man began, taking a few steps forward. "Maybe some more prominent muscle, a few scars, hmm? You _are_ the one who's been killing the Paladins, right? Or have we caught no more than a lucky rat?"

"I've killed dozens of those bastards" Griffin snarled, his anger boiling. "So you better tell me why I'm here, before you're just another notch on my tally."

The jumper saw the second man reach forward to tug at his boss's sleeve. He looked scared, shaking in his fancy butler's uniform, his already pallid face becoming even paler.

Good.

"Sir…" The young man whispered.

"I'm not afraid of him, Abney." His boss replied, pushing the man away. "What reason do I have to be? He's chained to the wall."

Griffin bared his teeth, trying to keep his breathing calm as he glared at the strangers before him.

_"If I could only get free. Then he would be afraid."_

"Are you a Paladin?" The jumper demanded. He had to know. If that woman had been right…if he wasn't dealing with Paladin…What did that mean? What did that mean for him?

The stranger chuckled softly.

"You might call me an employer…a protector. I make sure that people like you find work suitable to your…talents."

Griffin scoffed.

"If I wanted a job, I would have applied for one."

The man laughed shaking his head, running a hand through his graying hair. Despite the slight wrinkles of his face, the jumper couldn't help but notice that his captor looked heathly, neither frail nor portly. There might even be muscle hidden beneath his suit.

"I could try to justify myself to you." The man replied. "But, I can clearly see that you're not one to be reasoned with. I'm not a stupid man, Griffin. I've seen enough."

He snapped his fingers.

Before Griffin could retaliate, the younger man seized his boss's sleeve, pulling him backward. A breeze gently rushed through the room as their outlines began to distort and waver, starting from the butler, and moving through his arms. Then, they vanished right before his eyes…leaving behind only the jagged remnants of a jump scar.

_"What the hell?"

* * *

_

They always tried to jump.

Where a normal human would struggle and scream, a jumper would flit away.

That was one of the first things he had learned.

"You were lucky this time." Conley murmured softly, staring at the cast now encasing the young jumper's ankle. It had been a mere fracture, enough to stop the jumper from hurting himself further. A simple cast and a change of places for the fetter would suffice…and hopefully, Mr. Rice wouldn't try to jump again. His implant wasn't yet activated, the tissue around it healing from surgery. When it was, the jumper would hopefully learn quickly…and no further restraints would be needed.

The facility was meant as a prison, a place where jumpers were trained an conditioned. He had seen many pass through this room…all had made attempts to jump away. Sometimes they realized it was futile…Others continued to jump until they perished from fractures, seizures, or dehydration. A few had simply gone mad.

David Rice was just another jumper. He was older than many others that the doctor had seen; A lucky one who had managed to evade the Paladins long enough to see adulthood. He had tried to jump, and had the injury to prove it. He acted like an animal: without thinking.

He would have to be trained...or he would die.

He would have died anyway, out in the world. This way, he would be able to make a living for himself. This way, he would have someone to protect him, a place where he could always go when the Paladins caught his scent. A jumper alone was vulnerable. But, Simons' jumpers were untouchable; amazing specimens of the human race.

Conley had been studying them since the beginning, working to better understand the anomalies in their DNA that allowed them to leap through space. He had devoted his life to them…To make up for what he didn't know in the past.

* * *

Griffin hated the feeling of electricity. Ever since he had first been cornered by the Paladins, ever since they had first tried to tether him down, and _kill_ him, he had hated getting even the smallest electric shock. And as he dozed in his cell, his body kept twitching awake as the memories of his days caught in the wires came back to him, again and again. He kept remembering the anger, his rage that blinded him as David left him to hang, vulnerable and helpless, caught in the hold of the live wires. He couldn't work his way free…not without risking a broken neck. All he could do was wait for someone to find him, and take the volts racing through his veins.

A cry caught in the back of his throat as he jolted awake, another tremor shooting through him as he realized that he wasn't alone. Simons' strange servant was standing far from him, body almost pressed into the corner, still wearing his ridiculous uniform.

"So…you're a jumper." Griffin said, his voice cutting through the silence.

The butler nodded.

"Then why don't you leave? You're not chained up."

"He saved my life." The jumper replied. "Yours too."

Griffin scoffed.

"I didn't need saving."

"The Paladins would have killed you eventually." The butler pressed on. "They would have killed all of us in the end."

"At least I would have taken down as many as I could!" The other jumper snarled. "They _deserve _it for all the people they've murdered! I'm not going to stay here while they continue to exist."

For a moment, the servant didn't say a thing. He only stared, half hidden in the corner, his hands balled into fists at his sides.

"You needed to be saved." He murmured, before opening a jump scar, and passing through. The air knitted together behind him, leaving the corner empty once again.


End file.
